ClintonandLydia
by S.L. Rose
Summary: Love story


thats ironic 007: I talked to clinton today, you were off. thats ironic 007: he said he missed you thats ironic 007: it was cute abstract me 03: wait!!!!clinton...missed..me?!?!  
  
Squak. Adjust my reed. Squak. Adjust it again. Nice smooth C sharp.  
"Okay everyone, we're starting at 56! 56!" she repeats. The wooden stick tapes twice on the poteum. "One, two, three, four." the band starts playing, the french horns behind me creating a sound wave over all the other insturments. I struggle to even keep from squeeking. My reed is in bad condition. 'Keep it smooth,' i tell myself, 'smooth and steady.' I looked at the notes and read them to myself. 'B flat, then A, F..."Squeek. I can't keep it steady! It is so frustrating. I slink back in my chair and rest my insturment on the inside of my leg. I follow the music with my wandering eyes, nodd to the beat with my shaky head. I feel so foolish, sitting on the edge in my white tux shirt, black bow tie, at compatition warm up not playing one note. 'I'm getting a new reed as soon as possible' I tell myself. Ms.Cox cuts the band off, her fingures fully extended and clamping down on her thumb. The band slowly stops, wasting some down beats on random playing.  
"Okay. Okay." she breaths out shakily, moving her shoulders back and forth rapidly, the way she does when she is nervous. I guess we don't sound as good as she hoped. "Trumpets!" she says all of a sudden. "There! At 43, you need to give it all you got! You sound like a sloppy joe! You need to sound as sharp as a knife blade!" She pinched her index finger and thumb together and sang, "doot doot doot dee doot! Not, dooodeeodoodoot. Common trumpets! I know you can do it! Okay! 56 again!" She started tapping her wooden stick again.  
"Mrs. Cox?" I asked, when she turned her head I said, "I need that reed clipper thingy.." I trailed off. She looked at me strangly as my middle finger bounced off of my thumb repetavly. She suddenly understands, "Oh! Of course." She handes it to me. I take off my mouth peice and slide the reed away from the slobbery mess. I clip off the broken ends and put the reed back on the mouth peice. I start playing, I'm good at jumping in like that, I know the music so well, it's just so easy for me.  
"Lydia, Lydia. Whoa whoa there." I look up at her. 'what?' i think to myself. "You have a strong sound, nice brassy bass clarinet sound. But I asked for just the trumpets." I turn pink and smile, "sorry" I say, timidly. I bend my head and stare at the bell thingy at the end of my bass clarinet. I can see myself. Me and my blue hair. I sigh, thinking about the night before, the nights to come. Becca's party should be fun. All the drinking and making out will set my cramped up anger free. I hope you end up coming, last night you told me you would. But then again, last week you told me you would keep me company at the South Cast Party, and what did you do but leave me there to sit on the couch and watch all the couples make out. Last night was so much fun, all though i should have told you everything. About the socks that smelled like you, the late nights thinking about you, the picking out my outfits in the morning to match yours. I was a litte afraid that would freak you out though. I mean, you already know how much i like you, how special you are to me, what else is there to say? "Yes, clinton, I love you so much and I want to marry you and have your childrens. Though you never talk and I think you like me about as much as you like a stick of wood, I still feel the need to follow you around like a young nieve puppy." I sigh again. Why can't you just relize that there is chemsty between us. Us! Not you and Maya, not maya and me, me and you! I want people to say ClintonandLydia like they say RomeoandJuliet, TankGirlandBooga. I want one to be where the other is and vise versa.  
"Care too join us Lydia?" Mrs. Cox's voice wakes me from my eye opening sleep. "Why are you looking around dizzely whilest the others are playing? Are you lost? Here, let me help you. We are currently at 99. Okay, everyone, pickups!" The band starts playing again. 'I hope you miss me, clinton shirk, cause when I get over you, you'll be sorry.' I start playing.  
  
After Princeton Variations, we get a 2, which isn't the best but not the worst. I dress back into my Peanuts shirt and jeans and put my hair back up in a bun. 'DDRing' i tell myself, 'that should help take my mind off you, unless of course i fail miserable because instead of seeing arrows i see your head." I laugh out loud. "Okay, that's a little creepy." i tell my reflection. I walk out of the girls bathroom and turn the corner sharply, and there you are. I see your hair first, frizzy and curly, then your face, your whide eyes and then your clothes, your meterosexual style. Your head snaps at me, your eyes falling apon me. My frown turns into a grin, I want to run into your arms, kiss your chapped lips and hold your dry cracked hands, but instead I walk slowly up to you and lightly punch your shoulder. Why must i be such a guy with you. I ask you what you are doing her, you answer "kyle" your brother, Kyle Shirk. I say in tempo with you "Kyle sucks." almost like it's a chant. Why couldn't it be me you came for? I smile and laugh. "I gotta go," I say, "But, uhm, I'll talk to you tonight and you better be at that party tomorrow." You smile and nod. You never say much, but it's always enough. "Okay," I say, "See you tomorrow night." "Yeah, see ya." you say. I walk away. Before I go to the corner to meet Lilly, I punch myself in the shoulder for not kissing you, right then and there. 


End file.
